The Midwife and the Assassin Page 4

  “Finally, there are the Levellers. These mad-brains accuse Cromwell and Parliament of ruling as tyrants no different from the King. They seek to overthrow the present government and to replace it with anarchy.”

  I glanced uncertainly around the room. I did not know what Royalists, moderate men, or Levellers had to do with me. Since leaving York I’d kept clear of the political tumult, and could offer Marlowe little help discovering the plans of any party he named. Martha and Will seemed no less confused than I, and Colonel Reynolds’s face betrayed nothing.

  “Before the end of the year,” Marlowe continued, “these matters will come to a head and the fate of the King will be decided. These next months will be dangerous ones. It is my duty to secure the ship of state and help her to reach safe harbor. Your duty will be to assist me in this task.”

  “I told you already,” I said, “I am a midwife and that is all.”

  “Not anymore,” Marlowe replied. “You are my creature, and you will do my bidding. And it is not just you, Lady Hodgson, but all three of you. I am told you work well together, or at least you did in York. You will bring those skills to London and put them to good use.”

  “And if we don’t, I will return to the Tower,” Will said.

  He had taken a step away from Martha, and now I could see him more clearly. He appeared to be in good health, and strangely clean for having lain in the Tower for several weeks. Of course, since he was bait for me, rather than a true prisoner, Marlowe would have been careful to keep him alive. If Will had died in prison, Marlowe’s advantage over me would have evaporated like the morning fog.

  “Liberty has its price,” Marlowe said to Will. “If you wish to remain free, you, your aunt, and her maidservant will work on my behalf. It is as simple as that.” Marlowe spoke as if our conscription into his service were as inevitable as the rise and fall of the tides.

  “If you would have me inform on my friends, you have missed the mark entirely,” I said. “Other than Sir Robert, I know only one family in London, and they will have nothing to do with me. You will have to look elsewhere for your spy.”

  “Oh, it’s not the Wallingtons,” Marlowe said. “Indeed, it’s not the Royalists at all.”

  I was shocked that he had heard of my visit to Esther, for he only could have known of our plans by reading the letters I had sent from Pontrilas. How long had he been doing that?

  “It is the Levellers,” Will said. “He means for us to spy on the Levellers.”

  “What?” I cried. “How so? I know none of them.”

  I had read about the Levellers, of course, and knew their arguments to be quite mad. No matter which crack-brained fool was writing, their demands were those of lunatics. Some demanded the right to print whatever they wanted, however seditious or blasphemous. Others sought toleration of all religions, no matter how foolish or atheistic. And some demanded that all men, no matter how poor, be allowed to vote for members of Parliament. They were, as Mr. Marlowe had said, mad-brains one and all.

  “I know them, Aunt Bridget,” Will said. “I am why he chose you.”

  Martha and I looked at Will in confusion.

  “Last year when I left the Lord Mayor’s service, I came to London,” Will said. “I fell in with some who are called Levellers. Soon after, Mr. Marlowe’s men burst in upon one of their meetings. They arrested me and many others.”

  “Are you a Leveller?” I asked. I could not imagine Will joining up with such a mob.

  He shrugged. “Do not judge them by what their enemies claim. You must hear their ideas for yourself. And whatever Mr. Marlowe might say, they have no desire to destroy the government. They simply believe the government should rule by the consent of the people, not by force of arms.”

  Marlowe snorted dismissively at Will’s description. “Luckily for your nephew, he was taken up before he could find himself too deep in their plotting, else he would be in the low dungeon. But it was through him that I learned of you and your unusual work in York.”

  “I am sorry, Aunt Bridget,” Will said. “When the questioners asked about my family, I told them about you. I hoped that your rank might win me my freedom. I did not mean for you to be trapped as well.”

  I took his hand. “You could not have known. It is not your fault.”

  Will shook his head in despair, unwilling to be so easily forgiven.

  “Blame who you like,” Marlowe said, “the fact remains that I have restored your nephew to you, Lady Bridget, and now you will work for me.”

  “I told you, I know no Levellers,” I said. “You’ve wasted your time and ours.”

  “You may not know them yet,” Marlowe replied. “But you will know them very soon. Colonel Reynolds will explain what we have planned for you.”

  The three of us turned to face the Colonel.

  “The Levellers are scattered throughout the city.” Colonel Reynolds spoke softly, as if he regretted his place in the sordid business. “There is a group across the river in Southwark, where we found Will.”

  “We had planned to put you with that crowd,” Marlowe said. “But we discovered that their gangrenous ideas have spread to the city itself.”

  “Our concern now is with a group in Cheapside,” Colonel Reynolds said, “not far from St. Paul’s. They meet in a tavern called the Nag’s Head. We watch those meetings as best we can, but we need to know what is said in private gatherings.”

  “We are worried about one family in particular,” Marlowe said, “Daniel and Katherine Chidley. They are born Levellers and as turbulent and factious a pair as you’ll find in all of England.”

  “Katherine?” Martha asked. “The wife as well?”

  “Especially the wife,” Marlowe replied. “Before the war, she was a thorn in the King’s side and the Bishops’ as well. Now she makes trouble for Parliament. She is opposed to all good order and authority, whatever its form.”

  “And she is a midwife,” Colonel Reynolds added. “That is why Mr. Marlowe chose you for this task. You should have no trouble striking up a friendship.” He produced an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to me. “You and your maidservant will live in the Cheap—Cheapside—across the street from the Chidleys. We have rented an apartment for you there. Your nephew will stay with me at a nearby inn called the Horned Bull. You and I will meet from time to time and you will tell me what you have learned. You need do nothing more than watch and listen.”

  “An apartment?” I asked. “You don’t think people will find it curious that a gentlewoman from Hereford suddenly took it into her head to move to London and occupy a tenement in Cheapside? If the Levellers are so easily gulled, they could hardly threaten the government.”

  “Yes, you are right, of course,” Marlowe said. “And you can credit Colonel Reynolds with untying that particular knot.”

  Marlowe paused, relishing his words, and once again I felt like a lamb that had wandered into a wolf’s den.

  “Before you go to the Cheap,” Marlowe said, “we will turn you from a gentlewoman into a common widow.”

  I can only imagine the expression on my face, but Marlowe found it delightful enough to laugh out loud. It was not a natural sound.

  “Once you arrive in the Cheap, you will no longer be Lady Hodgson,” Marlowe continued. “You will be Mrs. Hodgson, or Widow Hodgson, or even Midwife Hodgson, if you like. But from this day forward you are no better than any of your neighbors.” Marlowe paused. “If it is any consolation, Martha will still be your deputy.”

  I could not even gibber. Even Martha was shocked into silence. My mind reeled at the idea of lowering myself to such a place. Mrs. Hodgson? Widow Hodgson? It was not that there were no respectable women outside the gentry, of course. Indeed, in York many of my best gossips were common folk. But I’d been Lady Hodgson for so long that I had come to rely on both the name and the title. And now Marlowe would have me walk away from that world entirely.

  “You will find all you need in that envelope,” Colonel Reynolds said. �
�You have a copy of your husband’s will, and a license from the Archbishop of York allowing you the office of a midwife. If anyone should question you, they will prove your story to be true.”

  I opened the packet and leafed through the papers. While I’d kept my name, little else about me had survived. I now hailed from Halifax, where I’d lived with my husband, Edmund. Edmund—a clothier, it seemed—had died the previous spring, leaving me nothing except a spinning wheel, two chairs, and three pounds.

  “You have a little money to help you get settled,” Colonel Reynolds said. “But you will have to work if you want to eat.”

  To his credit, Colonel Reynolds seemed quite uncomfortable with his duties. The scheme may have been his, but he was not enjoying its execution.

  “You will need new clothes, of course,” Marlowe said, his eyes shining with unseemly glee. “Or rather, old ones, for a new widow can hardly wear new clothes.” Marlowe actually laughed at this. “And you will have to send away your carriage. Once you look the part of a poor widow, Colonel Reynolds will take you to Cheapside.”

  “Will two days be enough time?” Colonel Reynolds asked.

  I nodded numbly. I had no idea how long such a change would take. And then I thought of Elizabeth. “What of my daughter?” I asked. “If I am to be in your service, I must bring her here.”

  Marlowe thought for a moment. “She will stay in Hereford for now. I cannot have you mothering, midwifing, and spying. Do you have any questions?”

  I stared at Mr. Marlowe, aghast that with a few words he’d deprived me of my daughter. I shook my head.

  “Good,” Marlowe said. “Two days it is. I look forward to your reports.” With that he returned to his papers. It seemed we were dismissed.

  Colonel Reynolds accompanied Will, Martha, and me to the Tower gate and then down to the riverside.

  “Colonel Reynolds,” I said, “You told me that you would call on us in two days’ time.”

  He nodded.

  “How do you know where we are staying? We didn’t know where we would be staying until last night.”

  Colonel Reynolds smiled ruefully. “Mr. Marlowe has more spies in his employ than the three of you. He knew the road you’d be taking in from Hereford, and learned from your letters that your first stop would be at Esther Wallington’s. He had a man watch the Wallingtons and follow you from there. London is growing, but a beautiful gentlewoman newly arrived from Hereford will stand out even among so many thousands.”

  I felt myself blush at the compliment and cursed myself for it. As far as I was concerned, Reynolds and Marlowe were comrades in the same dirty business. Once I’d regained myself, I bid Colonel Reynolds farewell.

  “Good day, my lady,” he replied before turning to Will. “After you’ve said your farewells you should come back to the Tower. We will get you a proper room rather than a cell.”

  Will nodded, and Colonel Reynolds started toward the Tower. Even before he’d passed from sight, Martha and Will burst out laughing.

  “My Lord, Aunt Bridget, you are crimson,” Will cried. “A beautiful gentlewoman newly arrived from Hereford…”

  “… will stand out even among so many thousands!” Martha joined in, expertly aping the Colonel’s Lancashire accent and manner of speech.

  I felt myself coloring again, but this time I could not keep a smile from my lips. When was the last time a man’s compliment had unsettled me so much? A half dozen or more country squires had certainly made their desires known—a widow with land was better hunting than a fat fowl with a broken wing—but none had affected me the way Colonel Reynolds had.

  “I’ll grant you that he cuts a fine figure,” Martha said. “So I cannot fault you in this. And a poor widow from Halifax like yourself could certainly do worse than marrying an army officer.”

  Martha meant it as a good-natured jest, of course, but the mention of my new status brought us back to the business at hand.

  “Yes,” I said. “About that…”

  Before Martha could reply, a cry came across the water, and our waterman steered his boat toward us.

  “We will talk at the inn,” I said.

  “Do not worry,” Martha replied. “Becoming someone else is not such a hard thing. It will surprise you.”

  Chapter 5

  The following morning, Will came to our inn near the Strand, and we talked for hours. Martha and I told him of the wearisomeness of country living, while he recounted his many adventures in York and London.

  “After a year in his service, the Lord Mayor offered me my freedom.” Will smiled slightly. “I don’t think he thought I’d accept. But there was nothing left for me in York, so I decided to see what I might find in London. It is as grand and terrible as I’d imagined.”

  “How did you come so close to the Levellers?” I asked. I still could not fathom how he’d been transformed from a wealthy merchant’s son to one who consorted with such a turbulent faction.

  “Luck or providence,” Will replied. “If you believe in either one. I was in an alehouse and met a man with a sprig of sage in his hatband.”

  “Sage?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

  “That’s what I asked him,” Will said. “Sea green is the Levellers’ favored color, and they wear sage to show their support for the cause. Cromwell had recently jailed John Lilburne and put other leaders in the Tower, so those who favored the Levellers were making their feelings known in any way they could.”

  “By wearing sage,” I said.

  Will nodded. “He told me about some of their ideas and invited me to meetings to hear more.”

  “At the Nag’s Head?” I remembered this was the tavern mentioned by Marlowe and Colonel Reynolds.

  “No, the Whalebone,” Will said. “It’s south of the river. Lodgings were cheaper there, so that’s where I’d settled.”

  “What did the Levellers say?” Martha asked.

  I was surprised by Martha’s question. I’d known her for years, but she’d shown scant interest in politics except for pointing out the hypocrisies of those in power.

  “They say that no man should be compelled to worship against his will,” Will said. “Nor can he be driven to take up arms in another man’s fight. That neither Parliament nor King can prevent a freeborn Englishman from speaking his mind. That the poorest man in England has as much a life to live as the greatest.”

  “And that no man should be governed except by his own consent.” I did not hide my disdain for such a fevered dream. “Will, do you not see? The Levellers would make the poor as great as the rich. If paupers ruled the nation, they would vote themselves a share of every estate. My servants would declare themselves masters and mistresses, simply by virtue of their greater numbers. Thievery would become legal. They would loose anarchy upon England!”

  Will smiled sadly. “Am I not a pauper, Aunt Bridget? I have nothing but the clothes on my back. If a new Parliament were selected today, I would have no more of a voice than the lowest beggar in England. Tell me: If I were to vote for a Member of Parliament, would it be a step toward the anarchy you fear?”

  Will’s words vexed me, not least because I had no ready response. I held fast to my belief that democracy could lead only to robbery and chaos, but my principles foundered on his example. While I did not say as much to Will, I resolved to think on the matter.

  After Will returned to the Tower, Martha and I packed away my silk and lace, exchanging them for wool and linen. As Mr. Marlowe had pointed out, I would not need my carriage, so I simply loaded it with my clothes and luggage to send everything back to Hereford.

  While the driver prepared to depart, I wrote letters to Hannah and Elizabeth. I told them that Will was safe and free from the Tower but that we would have to stay in London for a while longer. Elizabeth would have been thrilled to hear of my work as a spy, but I knew I could not tell her. I resolved instead to make my stay in London sound as dreary as a winter in Pontrilas. I described the rudeness of the people, the slowness of the city’s
streets, the stench, and the smoke. I expressed my sorrow that I’d left her behind, but assured her that she was not missing anything of interest.

  And so it was that two days after we found Will, I stood before a mirror and stared at a common housewife.

  I fought to control the tears of humiliation that filled my eyes, even as Martha and Will fought not to laugh aloud. In my heart I knew that trading silk for broadcloth should not have driven me to tears, but I’d never seen myself dressed so poorly.

  “If I’m going to don such garb, the Levellers’ work is done,” I said. “For now there isn’t a bit of difference between rich and poor.”

  “Well said, Widow Hodgson,” Will teased.

  “Oh yes, Mrs. Hodgson,” Martha added. “I could not have put it better myself.”

  It was all I could do not to stamp my foot in frustration, but such petulance would only encourage them all the more. Perhaps I would indulge myself when I was alone.

  Around the time we bid the carriage farewell, Colonel Reynolds arrived. It was nearly time for Martha and me to begin our new lives. He’d traded his uniform for the clothes of a shopkeeper, but he looked quite handsome all the same.

  When he saw me, Colonel Reynolds tried—and failed—to suppress a smile, and I felt my ears turning red. I fought down the urge to flee the room.

  “You look beautiful even in plain wool,” he said.

  I returned his smile against my will and found myself caught up in the genuine warmth of his eyes. Martha laughed aloud and went downstairs, leaving me alone with Colonel Reynolds.

  “I have drawn you a map of the Cheap,” he said, handing me a sheet of paper. “Cheapside Street is the spine through the neighborhood, running from St. Paul’s in the west to the Great Conduit in the east. If you become lost—and you will become lost—simply find Cheapside Street or the Conduit and start your journey again.

  “The Nag’s Head is north of Cheapside, here.” He pointed to a clearly marked square on his map. “That’s where you’ll find the Levellers’ most lively discussions. Mr. Marlowe has secured you lodgings on Watling Street, just north south of Pissing Alley.”